Ice On The Window
by DragonFang2011
Summary: When I look at you, my heart skips a beat, but later, that beat could mean a lifetime of tears watsed on something I knew I could never have. Ryuga is the infamous troublemaker at his school. But is that what he really wants? Or is there something else?


Kyoya: DRAGONFANG2011 DOES NOT OWN METAL FIGHT BEYBLADE!

Ryuga: He's recovered... took him long enough...

Me: Ah... I've missed writing these RyuKaru stories. I know I'm one of the few Fanfiction authors who support this pairing, but... I shall be brave! Yes, I've been watching Braveheart. And it was so touching and inspirational.

* * *

He used to get detention a lot, to say the least, but then decided that wasting time in school wasn't worth it, and tried not to get in trouble after that. But he still talked back to the teachers, and refused to participate in group work. He was labeled as a troublemaker.

Of course, his mother never helped much, even though she was the principal. She often took him to extra classes and special sessions to rid him of his "rebellious streak," as she liked to call it. But every one of her plans ended in failure—either he pushed the instructors to the breaking point, or he scared them away. One had ended up being thrown out of the window. Another had been bound with his own jacket and stuffed into the closet.

But she was a patient woman.

Ryuga knew what they said about him behind his back. They called him names like "monster," and "jerk," and "beast," and "disgrace," and many others that he couldn't even repeat. They spread untrue rumors about how he stabbed a teacher in the leg with a ballpoint pen, and about how he raped several girls, and about how he once went to school naked, and the "many times" he was arrested. He was questioned by the police, but they never proved he did anything.

He never did anything of the sort.

He always did his homework. He tried hard to get good grades, and often spent hours studying, but his efforts were fruitless. The words and numbers always slid off his head like oil. He tried to make friends, but they always shunned him, or ran away from him.

Interacting with other people was never really Ryuga's thing, anyway.

Maybe that was why he always went to the restroom to change into his gym clothes.

Maybe that was why he always went to the rooftop to eat lunch—even if it was raining, snowing, or hailing.

He always felt like a stranger to everyone. An outcast. He felt like ice frosting the outside of the glass windowpane of a car—outside, looking in—ruining the clarity and image that it normally displayed to the people inside. Keeping them from driving. People scraped him off the smooth surface and let him fall.

Perhaps that was why he started playing the violin. He liked the way it sounded—it gave him some kind of peace and serenity whenever he drew the bow across the strings. He liked the way it brought a smile to his mother's face. He'd play it for her whenever she came home from work, and she'd take off her shoes, drop her coat, lie down on the couch, and close her eyes. And she'd smile.

And he'd keep playing.

When he'd finished, he'd go to the kitchen and prepare her some dinner. Then, he'd eat a little, and go do his homework.

Hikaru was a free-spirited beauty—about a year younger than Ryuga—whose report card grades were always a little above passing. She wasn't the most popular girl in school, but she always had a friend or two with her—either it was Sophie or Madoka. She was an incredible athlete. The school uniform looked good on her.

Once, when Hikaru was in ninth grade and Ryuga was in tenth, they played a game of soccer during their lunch break. She kicked the ball towards him—he was on her team—and it hit him right in the place no guy wanted to get hit. When she tried to help him up, he glared at her so ferociously that her expression of sheepish innocence turned into one of fear, and she backed away.

She never spoke to him after that,

It had been two years since that incident.

* * *

It pained him.

To see her.

With _him_.

Ryuga clenched his fists and grit his teeth, hoping they wouldn't see him.

He knew it was wrong—what he was doing—but he couldn't help it. It was like a natural instinct. The urge to find out more. He was only human—it was his nature to be curious. He ducked behind the curtain of the stage, ignoring some of the stares that were being thrown at him from his fellow performers.

Out of sight.

And he watched them on their little "date," as they called it. He watched as he bought her a nice smoothie—blueberry with fresh blueberries and whipped cream, just how she liked it—and ordered one for himself. They made their way to a little table at the very edge of the bustling food court—so close to the stage—and sat down, their mouths opening and closing in quiet conversation.

Ryuga strained his ears to hear what they were saying, but over the noise of the other civilians, as well as the loud music, he couldn't hear them at all.

He cursed under his breath.

Hikaru tossed her head back and laughed. Kyoya was smirking—a fanged tooth poking out from between his thin lips as he took another sip of his smoothie. The two looked like they were having the time of their lives.

Maybe they were just friends.

She leaned over to give Kyoya a kiss on the lips.

Or maybe not. Ryuga felt a dull pain grasp his chest and squeeze it, tighter than a vise ever could. It was like he was being suffocated, and the labored feeling traveled downwards, towards his lower abdomen, churning his insides and making him feel like throwing up right then and there. He took a deep breath, and even that wasn't enough to satisfy his breathless lungs.

When all he wanted to do was to run to Tategami's smug face and punch him senseless until he was a bloody, lumpy pulp with a smashed-in nose, both black eyes, cut lips, perhaps a broken rib or two. Maybe he could make those cross-shaped scars of his bleed for all their worth.

He knew he could do it—he was stronger and older than Kyoya, after all.

Then, he imagined the look on Hikaru's face if he did beat Kyoya up, and he restrained himself.

Ryuga had always liked the sense of joy that flooded him, the way his heart raced like a wild mustang, whenever he saw her smile. A smile that she rarely showed—especially not to him. It was a beautiful smile that dazzled him every single time, although he never showed it through his usual stoic mask of indifference.

He couldn't imagine how horrified and scared she would look if she saw her date being pounded to the ground by the scariest guy in school.

But he needed to know—what did she see in _him_?

She was normally so cold to everyone.

Then again, so was he.

Ryuga sighed, pulling himself out of the wave of self-pity that he had started to pull on top of himself. He walked away, into the bustling crowd of people that parted to let him pass. He didn't look back—nor did he want to. He didn't want to see her.

With _him_.

He knew it would be a long time before the empty feeling in his heart would go away.

He didn't have a chance with her.

Why even try?

"Hey, Ryuga." The red-haired nuisance—Ren Kanaagi—gave him a thumbs-up and grinned that annoyingly wide grin of his. "You're up. Are you ready?" He was sweaty and his face was flushed red—he must've performed his little break-dancing routine already.

Before he knew it, he was standing on stage, in front of a quiet crowd. He rested his chin on the chin rest and positioned his bow above the strings. Then, he closed his eyes and started to play—a slow, tune that captivated his mind and willed all of his emotions into the very wood of the instrument.

For the next three minutes, he didn't feel like a monster.

He felt like _Ryuga_, moving with grace and poise, and the delicate steps of a woodland creature. Hungrily devouring each note, each measure, each second with a passion that burned as hot and as pure and as bright as fire itself.

He stopped playing and opened his eyes.

Applause greeted his performance, but his eyes scanned the crowd for one person. Hikaru's sparkling amethyst eyes met his gaze, and slowly, the corners of her lips lifted. She grabbed Kyoya's hand, stood up, and cheered along with the others.

Ryuga sarcastically bowed to his audience and made his exit.

She had _smiled_.

And that was all that mattered.

* * *

Ryuga: *shoves Kyoya* Girl stealer!

Kyoya: Dude, it's a Fanfiction. No one's really shown a romantic interest in Hikaru, so no one gets her. And I noticed you put in a quote from the Babel Tower DJ from Metal Fury: Episode 13. I find it hard to envision Ryuga being a woodland creature...

Ryuga: *grumbles* This was a boring story, anyway...

Me: As you guys have seen, there is a violin in this story. Because I have taken a genuine interest in them! Also, as a hardcore RyugaxHikaru fan, it feels so, incredibly, painfully wrong for me to pair Hikaru up with Kyoya here. *sobs* I'm so sorry! RyuKaru will always be my One True Pairing! *pumps fist* YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!

Ryuga: Who are you talking to?


End file.
